The Little Things
by Urchin of the Riding Stars
Summary: Request for xechoheartx. When you have someone to loathe so dearly as Dash did for Daniel Fenton, the very worst and last thing you can do is fall in love with them. Swagger Bishie, One-sided Pitch Pearl.
1. Waiting Across The Bend

The Little Things

Two-shot request for xechoheartx. When you have someone to loathe so dearly as Dash did for Daniel Fenton, the very worst and last thing you can do is fall in love with them. One-sided Swagger Bishie, Pitch Pearl.

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><p>Well, this is a definite step out of my normal fandom! I'm not really huge on DannyxDash, but I requested xechoheartx (Who, by the way, is a remarkable artist; look her up!) for a commission, and she graciously accepted, even if she is insanely busy right now! :) I felt bad for adding to her work load, so I offered her a request. She asked for either Pitch Pearl or Swagger Bishie. I was originally going to write a story for Pitch Pearl, but had a little bit of a hard time knowing how to go about it. Is Phantom a separate entity, or just Danny's dead other half? It got very confusing, so I started evaluating what I could remember of Dash in the series.<p>

Yes, there are a lot of spaces. I'm sorry. But a lot of this simply takes place in the past, so...yeah. Otherwise, it would be pretty confusing.

Hope you enjoy it, xechoheartx. If not, I will delete posthaste, and try again. By the way, uh...this is...really my first actual sex scene. *Blushes* If you'd rather the rating be dropped, please let me know.

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><p>In all ways but one, Dash Baxter had turned out to be everything his parents hoped him to be, and more.<p>

He'd been born in the merry month of May, had inherited his mother's violet eyes, and his father's, as the proud Baxter Senior had put it, 'dashing' good looks. The pun had earned him a reproving smack from Mrs. Baxter, but it had also earned the blonde little boy a nickname. Alexander 'Dash' Baxter had been called Dash since the day his mother had cheerfully handed the boy over to a nanny upon coming home from the hospital, and thus he remained ever since. More than once, his parents would have to cross out 'Dash' whenever signing a great pile of boring and official forms and rewrite 'Alexander' in its place. At nine months, Dash was known to throw screaming temper fits whenever someone was foolish enough to use his Christened name, and so, he remained 'Dash.'

His mother had been the daughter of a wealthy CEO with plenty of 'old money' in the family to give, particularly when her old man had died and left his entire estate to his only child, much to the resentment of his few 'bastard' children. Dash's father was a well-to-do curator, whom, after spending years pulling the strings of his humble business to the crème de la crème of the upper class, was a man extremely well pleased with himself, and with his family. His wife was fit, and dazzling whenever they had over fine company-which was often, as Mrs. Baxter loved to host parties-and his son, well, he had football coaches over for martinis enough to exclaim over him, flattering the Baxters to no end. He had the building and the frame for the perfect athletic body, they said, watching Dash spit out bits of shrimp appetizers in the garbage nearby, looking nauseated. He was certainly speedy enough running around the backyard at only four years old while his nurse chased him, looking harried. He'd make a good track and field runner. Or, if he got a good enough muscle build, quite a decent football quarterback. A few coaches joked that they would happily reserve spaces in the NFL for the little tyke, for if he could hurl a football as well as he could 'throw' a temper tantrum, he'd be all but unstoppable. Quite possibly, the next Ray Nitschke.

Mr. Baxter had been flushed with pride to hear this, and got to dreaming at night when his mind would turn to boredom, passing over the many great and fine things he already owned and the grand things he'd believed he had done.

One of the few dreams he had never been able to realize was becoming a great athlete, as an injury at college had shattered his dreams of glory…at least, in THAT way. While he had done his best to compensate for his losses by finding a beautiful trophy wife and one of the more marvelous homes in Amity Park, there had always been the nagging suspicion that he could have been much greater than he was, which irked him incessantly, for while it seemed impossible, the doubt would not leave him.

But to raise a son who was a success-nay, but a star! Why, he'd be a hero. A star in his own right….people would be flocking to the house in droves to hear of his success in creating an ultimate superstar, wanting to hear of his sage advice and sound judgment. He'd publish an autobiography, publish millions…..

Dash would be grateful, of course, and see to it that his parents lived out the rest of their days in comfort…more comfort than the rat hole they lived in now. For while their home was nice, they were still living in a neighborhood that was regularly frequented by ghosts.

GHOSTS. HAUNTS. Spirits. Ghouls. As if the world had gone to pieces, and decided to remake itself into some absurd, ongoing Halloween special. No one ELSE at the club had the excuse 'Sorry I was late; a ghost hunter shot out my tires while trying to blast the head off of a specter stealing corrugated cardboard boxes from my house.'

He'd only be laughed at; humiliated. It was abnormal and unseemly, the life that he had to live in Amity. He could not move elsewhere; his company was there, and the rest of the backwater towns that were nearby were in a sadder state then the one regularly visited by the undead.

The Baxter family did not live behind the classic white picket fence, but they did have an enormous home with two swimming pools and a stylish security system on their small gate that was most likely just for show, as they already had two hulking security guards on the premise, most likely also simply for show, as they gave passerby a look so menacing neighbors had been too afraid to come up to the door with 'welcome to the neighborhood' casseroles when the Baxters had moved in.

But they could yet do better. The homes of pro players were often adorned with fountains, and many Summer homes to retire to. Mr. Baxter, much to his indignation, had only one cabin at a ski resort for winter vacation. He could not inherit any, for his own father, much to his chagrin, had none but the little roof over his head, which doubled as his popular and beloved town-favorite….

Bakery.

He'd been glad that he had demanded what little inheritance his father could give him at such an early age, go to college, and consequently disown the man. But Dash wouldn't do that to HIM. He'd settle down, marry a nice girl, (Or at least one who could have attractive babies) and enjoy a magnificent career.

It was only when Dash was two that his father took him outside, and carefully started explaining the rules of the game of football. Unfortunately, getting his attention had not been an easy task, considering all the child wanted to do was mull about with his mother's pet Chihuahua (Much to his irritation) and read picture books all day. He'd finally had to request that the maid take out the bookshelf from his son's room, and fill it with action figures from notable football teams. Dash's old blue teddy bear ensemble that his mother had had carefully prepared for the child's birth had been repainted and redesigned with jerseys, helmets, and posters, most of which had been signed by famous, overpaid players endorsing certain brands of sneakers.

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><p>Dash's mother had wanted to send her son to a private school, but Mr. Baxter, not appreciating the idea of expense and excess coddling, had not approved. He'd grown up in a public school, he had exclaimed, puffing his chest out like an ailing peacock, and had done fantastically well for himself. Dash was to be sent to Amity Elementary, and that was that. Dash's mother scarcely argued with her husband, and on the few occasions she did not get her way, simply went out sulking and bought three or four new hats or a designer bag before returning home in quite good spirits.<p>

There were, however, some problems with the child's schooling. While he now had a little friend named Qwan, whom, much to Mr. Baxter's relief, also looked as though he could easily be a star one day, there came home some negative results from his parent teacher conferences.

In the classroom, Dash was constantly turning in unfinished art projects and sloppily done homework which wasn't even finished most of the time. Mr. Baxter had only rolled his eyes at this; a good deal of his own college scholarship money had come from athletics, and this did not overly concern him, especially since he was a good father, and practiced football with Dash every day when he arrived home from work. He'd have to start getting one of the maids to do Dash's art projects.

There also came strange reports of….bullying that Dash's mother had shaken her head throughout the entire duration, eyes swimming in indignant tears.

While the teacher never saw it, the first grader was said to relentlessly pick on another little boy in the class-a child named Danny Fenton. The Baxters had exchanged exasperated, furtive looks at one another while the teacher carefully explained the problem, looking troubled.

Fenton…he had to be the son of the crackpot Jack Fenton, a ghost hunter comically incompetent. How like people of HIS sort to tell lies!

Dash was said to be constantly hovering around the little boy and his friend, a young Tucker Folley, at every interval. At recess, Dash would knock Danny down, and shove gum in his hair before running off, always glancing behind him to make sure Danny was crying. He'd stolen Danny's lunch more than once, tossing it in the garbage, and had thrown the little toy rocket ship that Danny had brought to school one day in a tree. He tossed spitballs at him in class, he called the boy nasty names, and he deliberately tripped him on the classroom's trips to the bathroom and the water fountain.

His older sister Jasmine, who was in the third grade, was forever running off to the teachers and complaining of what she'd seen, and now Danny's parents were starting to get upset. The teacher, Ms. Willkins, gently advised that the Baxters have a good long talk with the Fentons with both Danny and Dash present, as to sort this matter out peacefully and properly.

In response, the Baxters had stormed out, and Mr. Baxter had taken Dash out for ice cream, praising him for exerting his authority, but advising him to stay under the radar, preferably AWAY from the Fenton boy, if he could help it.

But it appeared Dash could not.

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><p>In second grade, while he and Qwan were far from the brightest of their class, they often reconvened at Dash's home to plot nasty tricks on Fenton, Folley, and now, the newest member of the dork squad, Manson. Sam lived nearby in a house far fancier than the Baxters,' (Much to his father's chagrin) but while Dash loathed Sam with a passion that surprised even him, he normally did not do much other then call her names….which, for the most part, was ineffective. He'd only ever hit a girl once, and his father had boxed his ears, claiming that while 'boys would be boys,' he was to never, ever touch a girl.<p>

Dash took those words to heart, and continued punishing Danny, hating him, hating him, hating him so dearly that he thought he might die from it. It surprised even Qwan, who, upon reaching third grade, had gotten tired of picking on the trio, but meekly continued to harass Danny at Dash's order.

It puzzled Dash sometimes, when he did his best to avoid looking at Fentina (A nickname he had recently begun barking at the boy at the start of the year) whenever they started picking teams for dodgeball. He did his best to never, ever pick Danny, taking pleasure in the fact that it was generally he or Folley who was picked last, and consequently hailed on with a sea of dodgeballs.

He hated Danny, though he did not understand why, and it unnerved him. It was scary at such a young age, and he hoped that hitting him might at last tire him of the act, and he wouldn't be quite so angry anymore.

Because there were no answers, he continued to do his absolute best in being a thorn in the boy's side; focusing almost as much as he did in playing football. While Dash took little pleasure in it anymore, he had grown quite good, and now he was playing on a junior team on the weekends. He imagined the football was Danny's head when the time came to punt it, and had sent Danny to the nurse's office with a bloody nose twice already.

When life was perfect, pardoning his poor grades and the fact that Daddy yelled and said some terrible things sometimes, why was a pipsqueak like Fenton managing to bother him quite so much?

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><p>In Fourth grade, he'd finally done it. He stared down at the curled up form of his enemy, stunned, while Sam glowered up at him from the ground, arms protectively thrown around Danny while Tucker raced away, shouting for a teacher.<p>

Danny was crying slightly, and now there was blood, blood everywhere on the ground. The eager children that had gathered around the two were now eyeing Dash uneasily, and were inching away from him. Numb to it all, Dash listened to Danny sob, the boy's hands cupped over his bleeding mouth, a bloody molar lying next to him.

One of his blue eyes now brilliantly purple, Danny had looked up at Dash, his uninjured eye glittering with tears and anger.

"I hate you," he had gasped, his bruised face pale, and contorted into a mask of seething resentment. "I hate you, you oversized pig, and I….I hope you DIE! Which you will, all alone, because no one _likes_ you. Everyone's just scared of you because you're a big bully that doesn't have any feelings!"

Dash's mouth had dropped, and he had only stared at the boy, blood pounding in his ears as he stared down at his trembling fist that had committed the crime.

No one, pardoning in father, in all of his nine years, had dared to talk to him in such a matter. Ever.

Sam had tugged her best friend to his feet, her own eyes glittering with unshed tears.

"He's right. Go away, you pill. No one likes you. It's no wonder you don't have any REAL friends-just underlings."

He didn't know what 'underlings' meant, but it sounded nasty. Sam glared at him, her heart-shaped face cold.

"No one wants to play with you," she repeated, as she turned around, taking Danny with her, her Bonjour Buggy backpack smiling creepily back at the schoolyard bully with all six of its rolling eyes as Tucker hurried back to the two, a playground attendant in hand. Dash soberly watched as Danny was lead into the school, a bloody handkerchief pressed against his mouth.

For a moment, none of his fellow classmates moved a muscle.

Then, as if by some general, unspoken gesture, they all slowly began to move away, uncertainly settling back into their former activities; talking, playing kickball, or tag. Qwan anxiously inched to his partner in crime, and whispered into his ear:

"Aw, man. Dude, we are SO busted."

Dash said nothing. He was still looking at the gravel where Danny had fallen, where it was still gleaming with blood.

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><p>A much frazzled and very upset Maddie Fenton had picked up her son shortly afterwards, and lead him to the weird, oversized Fenton assault RV. Sixth grade Jazz had idled behind, carrying her books, with an arm around Danny's shoulders. Everyone had watched them go from inside the class windows, buzzing like an overturned beehive. While the teacher had tried to restore order, Dash had only sat sullenly in his seat, frowning at nothing, chin in hand, unexpected emotion burning at his throat.<p>

The next day, when Danny came back with a small gap in his teeth, (Luckily, it had been his very last baby tooth) he found a large grape sucker in his desk, and a new eraser that was shaped like a rocket, and smelled like bubble gum. No one could tell him where it had come from.

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><p>He had to mutter a quick apology to Danny, and shake his hand abruptly. Danny had not looked at him the entire time, though his blue eyes had frozen over, and he was casting an ugly look at the rug. Dash did likewise, doing his best not to touch him any more than necessary. He'd also been told that he had to write an essay explaining why what he had done was wrong, but thankfully, the maid at home by now knew how to duplicate his atrocious handwriting, so that was taken care of.<p>

For a few weeks, Dash had given Danny a wide berth. His father had slapped him on the shoulder, had told him not to worry; players on a football team saw a great deal worse injuries, and frequently did a number on each other. Why, just last week, a hockey player had accidentally spit out his mouthguard, just in time to meet an oncoming puck that had knocked six or seven of his teeth out. Dash had stared at the article in disgust, his stomach in knots.

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><p>During fifth grade, he still desperately called out rude names whenever Danny approached too close, but they were becoming halfhearted. Thankfully, (And regretfully, surprisingly enough to the young jock) the new teacher had enough sense to separate Danny and Dash in different homerooms. While he still had a worshipping young lackey at hand named Qwan, he now found his chattering best friend to be slightly wearing, though he continued to hang out with him. While his father didn't really care about his school life, it was still important that he keep up appearances, and he was still cultivating the group of mindless, rich young teens that would make up his middle school and high school clique. You could never prepare too far in advance.<p>

It was in sixth grade that he and Fentina were paired up as lab partners, and had the subject been on anything other than SPACE, he would have loved to torment him incessantly. But his science grade was averaging between a C- and a D, and Casper Middle School had threatened to kick him off the team if he couldn't keep his grades up. They were heading for Dash's first-ever championship league, and his father was all but foaming at the mouth in anticipation.

But this lab was an in-class assignment, worth thirty percent of their quarter grade. He had to pass. And while he had tripped Danny in the hallways, threatened him once or twice about the report, and had all but watched an angry Danny do all the work for the two of them, complaining loudly all the while, Dash couldn't help but keep staring at the shorter teen, wondering how in the world a kid who was so poor at PE could be so skinny. His nerd friend Folley shoveled down an average of three Nasty Burgers a day, and still remained trim, but Fentina was downright scrawny. He also rambled a lot on space, and he might as well have been speaking Greek to the layman's ears, but he also noted how Danny's eyes lit up when he started talking about the stars. Not the stars in the soap magazines Mother was always bringing home, mind you-but actual rocks in the sky. And stuff. Surprisingly enough, some of it HAD been fairly interesting….Danny had made Dash look through a stupid telescope and see two giant spoons in the sky, as well as a constellation that kinda looked like a football.

Grudgingly, he decided to 'help,' but Danny pleaded him not to, considering Dash had played connect the dots with their star charts, and the boy now had to do damage control. While Dash was 'helping' (He'd given himself the time-honored roll of poking Danny in the back of the neck whenever he stopped working to think a few moments) Danny outside on the last evening they recorded the stars outside the school, Danny worked quickly and quietly, but not, like, with the fanatical nerdiness that some people like Tucker had whenever they were in IT classes. And stuff.

No-Danny was in his element, serene, and at peace, glancing up at the sky every now and again as stars continued plummeting to Earth, as though to confirm something he already knew before bending back over his star chart.

Lying on the cool grass a few feet away, Dash had stared disinterestedly at the specks of dust overhead the working students, before he found himself sequestered by a strange sort of calm that he had never really known before, not at home, and certainly not on the football field. The specks of dust looked like…well, specks of dust, but they were kinda pretty. He could at least comprehend why Fenton was so interested in them, though to him, they just looked like a mess scattered across the night sky that needed to be swept up.

But it was a mysterious sort of mess. Their teacher had said that the night sky was the 'floor of heaven' or something weird like that. Dad wouldn't like it if he knew that Dash's teacher was trying to get him to think. It made his head hurt a little.

He glanced back at Danny, and started a bit; it had gotten a bit darker outside, and now, the boy's alabaster skin was practically glowing in the dark. His slim and careful fingertips still worked over the telescope and their charts, and, when it got too dark for him to see very clearly, he carefully lit a nearby lantern, and suddenly illuminated his face with a small sort of glow.

He smiled faintly to himself for a moment, as if remembering some vaguely funny joke long since past. Raven dark spikes ruffling in the late evening breeze, he patiently continued his work, as though he had done it a million times before, while other students complained loudly to one another in the distance over the hour and how HARD this stupid lab was.

It was only after a few moments that Dash had felt himself go dizzy, and he had to inhale several times to clear his head. Oh. He hadn't been breathing. Breathing was good. Yeah.

He'd glanced down at his large sneakers, feeling very awkward and very useless for the first time in years. He shifted uncomfortably, wondering what Fenton was thinking about, and why that burning prickle behind his throat had returned….with his insides feeling about as seized up as the few times he'd pulled a muscle whilst training.

_Hey, Fentina? Do you still want me to die?_

* * *

><p>They'd passed-with flying colors. He'd left Danny alone for a few weeks: Qwan was suffering in Extra Credit hour classes for weeks after he'd gotten such a poor mark on the lab. It was only by the skin of his teeth that Qwan had managed to stay on the team, and they boys had taken home State for Amity Park.<p>

His father had been overwhelmed with joy, his mother had been sobbing with glee as people pressed all around him at the after party, raising sodas in a toast, all wanting to give him gifts, snacks, and another round of applause.

To his surprise, while he'd smiled and been pleasant and had boasted at all the right times, it had meant surprisingly little to him. After all, the trophy now on display at Casper Middle school was really only that; a trophy. A hunk of metal that would need dusting soon enough, with less than substantial memories alongside it.

He kept looking at an empty chair-one not filled by a giggling girl texting on her phone or whispering amongst her friends, or a bragging athlete or a gaggle of adoring yes-men.

Of course, he wouldn't have invited Fenton. Who would have wanted him? He wasn't popular. He was a total nobody-a guy who just so happened to have two weird friends to hang out with so he didn't totally disappear into the crowd. His presence was still just as infuriating as ever-an eyesore on Dash's perfect existence-and his parents would never have tolerated a Fenton kid here. Besides, Danny would have probably regarded an invitation as a colossal joke.

And yet, Dash had found his eyes wandering to that stray chair, which remained empty for the rest of the party.

And he wondered what he might have done with him there, too.

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><p>Seventh grade came. For his so-called 'the talk,' with his parents, Mr. Baxter had come into Dash's room, and had unceremoniously dumped a bag full of condoms on the startled teen's bed.<p>

"Just don't knock a girl up" was all he'd said, after handing his son a small box, and gave him a wink. "And here…for all your, uh…..special needs."

And with that, he'd tussled Dash's hair, and had left. Curious, Dash had opened the cardboard box, and peered inside. What he saw made his face contort, and his stomach, unexpectedly, twist.

Oh.

_These _types of magazines. He tentatively withdrew one by the tips of his fingers, as if handling a long rotten bit of garbage. Face reddening, he'd opened a magazine, and was surprised to see pictures unfold out of a…..

Oh, dear.

He slammed the thing back in, and threw the entire mess under his bed, before tossing his head in a football-shaped pillow, face crimson red.

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><p>It was in eighth grade that the sneaking suspicion had come, and he'd been absolutely, one hundred percent, sickened with dread and horror.<p>

While he continued to torment Danny as he had done in his childhood heydays, he had sat around with Qwan in corners around school, pretending to be browsing through textbooks while in reality peering at dirty magazines behind the covers. Qwan had flushed and got all sweaty and grinned and had had to run off to the bathroom. Dash tried to follow suit, but it wasn't with very much gusto, and it worried him.

What would his father think of him if he were impotent? It was better than the alternative, which his father insisted was vile, despicable, and a crime against nature. He'd worked too hard for too long to earn the man's respect, and he wasn't going to toss it away so that he could walk in mustache parades wearing rainbow suspenders. The very notion was revolting. He'd make himself enjoy the thought of….doing that….with a woman. Someday.

Why did he have to grow up quite this fast? While he was stocky, and taller than most his age in middle school, he felt puny inside. He didn't do puny.

At school, he'd kissed Paulina under the mistletoe around Christmastime. While she had drawn back with a satisfied smirk, she had quipped an eyebrow after glancing at Dash's crestfallen expression. He assured it was nothing-he'd just, uh…..never done mistletoe before. Yeah. That was it.

Pathetic, yes. But Paulina had taken it with a shrug-she had probably had better, had had worse. As she wandered away to her next class, Dash remembered his parents talking about his 'relationship' status as of late. His father wondered why he had yet to bring a girl home, but his mother had insisted that Dash would find a nice one in time, and besides, it was rather ridiculous for children to start dating at 13, anyway.

Hooray for Mom. Sulking, Dash had moved onto his next class, passing Danny Fenton in the hallways. While considering dropping his head down the toilet sometime later on, Dash glanced carelessly back at him, only to notice that there was a hard scowl set on the boy's jaw, and he was throwing the mistletoe and green, red, white, and blue tinsel in the hallways a very filthy look. Dash was surprised the berries on the ornament did not wither then and there.

Ah, yes. Fenton hated the holidays. It had to be a fascinating story why; but he wouldn't let himself believe that he was curious to find out, or that he cared. He had long since stopped caring about the holidays himself, considering what all he normally received was sports and fitness equipment these days, and he felt he needed to attend a host of parties at so-and-so 's place to maintain his eloquent social circle. All acquaintances (Whatever that word meant) and no friends.

What he really would have liked would have been simple alone time. Maybe with someone that didn't have to gush holiday tunes every few seconds or talk of the expensive gifts that they wanted. Maybe someone to sit and drink hot chocolate with while looking outside at the snow.

They wouldn't have to talk about Christmas or Hanukkah or whatever. In fact, the hypothetical person could hate it, for all he cared.

* * *

><p>So came Spring, and with it, graduation. Dash brought home another state championship before he went, making sure to rub the plaque in Danny's face. Much to his disappointment, Danny had only rolled his eyes, and had stated that he hadn't even bothered to show up at the game.<p>

Dash transferred to Amity High, where Danny still showed his face. It was a fact that Dash both respected and loathed, for while Danny would pop up, he would find himself growing hot, then embarrassed and angry.

How dare that little punk just…..just stand there! Years of repressed rage were fixated on this insignificant little target. Why did he have to exist? Why was Fenton being such a creep? He was so small, it was pathetic. He could probably wrap his hands around his neck and throttle him, though Dash certainly wasn't murderous. Heck, he could probably wrap his hands around the guy's waist, and they'd touch one another at the boy's nav-

His first day of thinking thus (And it definitely was not the last), Dash ran to the bathroom, and all but vomited his insides out.

* * *

><p>Now, his mother was starting to ask too many questions. While she was still kind and fairly mild, Dash felt pressure slowly creeping back on him, and he hurriedly blurted out an interest in the first girl he could think of:<p>

Jasmine Fenton.

While his parents had whooped it up at the thought of their son liking an older girl-let alone a Fenton, they could hardly deny two things:

One-Jazz was very, very intelligent. She'd been in the paper for managing to get a perfect on her C.A.T. She was brilliant; plenty of colleges already took interest in the Junior, and she'd received more than one letter from Ivy League schools.

Dash's grades started to drop again, and so, he had hurriedly made the first move to contact her and petition her for help. Jazz had been rather reluctant, but at last agreed, and had told him her schedule could only accommodate Dash if he….

…..went into the Fenton household. Oh, hell.

Oh, how he hated, hated, hated seeing Danny there! The teen was just as ready to give him a dirty look, thankfully.

He spent most of his time staring at Jazz, smirking slightly as he outlined her lovely features, finding slight similarities from SOMEWHERE, but he most definitely could not remember where from. That perfect little nose, that chin, the shape of her eyes, that funny little pout, the way she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and looked at you…..

Thankfully, Jazz managed to jerk the jerk out of his reveries, and angrily reprimanded him each time she caught him at it. With her assistance, Dash was able to pass his first quarter of school, and allowed to stay on the football team. Jazz had rejected him when he'd asked her out, something he'd been all too grateful for.

* * *

><p>One night, in the Autumn of his Freshman year, he'd woken up with a slight problem. Cursing, and red-faced, he'd bungled his way into the bathroom, and hurriedly ran up a cold shower, shuddering as he passed under it, willing his 'problem' to die away.<p>

He rubbed at it absentmindedly, thinking of the hustler magazines that he'd only been too happy to allow Qwan and his buddies borrow. Those had brought him a vague sense of satisfaction, much to his relief, but it was nothing like the way described in that stupid romance book he'd clumsily read he'd had for school. For something to be called so magnificent, it seemed more annoying than anything else.

But of course, you weren't a maaaannnnnn if you thought so. What sort of one would you be, if you somehow some way imagined being in the school locker room, watching out of the corner of your eye to again access how worthless and sad-looking Daniel Fenton wa-

Dash jumped, nearly slipping on the wet surface of the shower, heart hammering as his erection swelled. A mixture of butterflies and panic fluttering in the depths of his stomach, he frantically splashed icy cold water on his body, but to no avail. Glancing at the mirror across the bathroom and seeing his face was tomato red, Dash leaned back against the wall and wearily sighed, hands pressed over his stomach.

One time.

That's all it would be. Everyone had fantasies at some point; his parents had said so themselves, and had always insisted that one would grow out of it. Yes. That was the way it would be-he would try it once, God forbid twice, and be done. Forever. He'd realize how much better normal fantasies were-like half-naked chicks on the beach or something-and it would be amazing, and he wouldn't feel pressured to comply in rules that seemed too stifling for his limited comprehension.

Dash uneasily shifted from one foot to the other, not knowing where to start. So….it would be just the idea of doing it with a guy? Any guy? Dude, that was messed up. Where would you even…

…oh.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Dash slowly cupped his hands around himself, and started thrusting, his face coloring a darker shade.

Okay. Maybe he was getting a brief idea of what people were talking about…..this was kind of good. His heart was pounding in his chest, and if he didn't have to see himself doing this, it wouldn't be so bad.

He staggered back, switched the water to a hot temperature, and tried to relax under it, loosening his rigid muscles. All the time he kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut, pretending that he wasn't in his own bathroom, but in the school's locker room. He and someone else were alone, just alone…..

He could faintly hear his own moans and grunts of appreciation, pretended that the skin sliding past his own belonged to someone else. Someone who was pressed against the wall, breathing heavily in the steam, leaning backwards, perfect face flushed rosy….

_Warmth bloomed in the pit of the jock's stomach, and he let out a loud groan, teasing and worrying the head, almost feeling someone lean up into him, and groan, in a familiar voice that he wish he didn't know…._

_'Uuuggggghhhh! Da-aaackk, D-Dash-"_

_A dark crown of spiky hair. He imagined blindly suckling at soft skin at the base of the boy's neck; he let out a whimper, and dragged his hands down the glass, leaving marks through the moisture the steam had brought. _

_Danny Fenton groaned, cerulean eyes dark, lidded and smoldering with lust; rolling backwards as Dash slammed harder and harder into him, squeezing monstrously tight, and listening to Danny gasp, tipping his head back only to have his mouth accosted by his bully's….._

_"Dash, please!"_

_The taller boy happily obliged, his body searing with heat, but shivering with delight at the feel of the smooth, warm, wet, buttery flesh rubbing obligingly against his, while Dash all but screwed him into the wall, feeling the paramount pleasure building as Danny shrieked, and curled his toes when Dash hit a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside him that had both of them gasping. _

_He accosted Danny's mouth, and a smooth, petite hand moved to cup his face-as soft and sweet as a butterfly's touch. As Danny moaned breathlessly, he seized him by the hips and dragged himself deeper and deeper inside, all but mad with lust and desperate for more contact, as something paramount was building deeper and faster and more frantically inside him, until- _

_The snap._

_For a moment, all Dash knew was nothing; nothing but bliss, and then, he slowly pulled himself out, all of his limbs trembling. _

He opened his eyes.

Danny was gone. Dash was standing under the showerhead, with water that had long since gone cold again. After blinking in confusion for a moment, he'd slowly sank to his knees, and let out a series of low sobs, hands covering his eyes.

The books had gotten one thing right: the whole post-orgasmic chill thing.

* * *

><p>It was around that year that the ghosts in Amity Park started many, some colossal, some mildly frightening, and some just rather sad-takeovers. But the ghost boy was now there to protect everyone from it. He was beautiful, enchantingly so-and even when he was zipping around the sky like an addled sparrow, he still glittered, and he still looked like he was doing ballet.<p>

At school, Dash was miserable. While the Casper Crows were doing excellently in his sophomore season and he still maintained his status as a member of the 'in' crowd (What did that even mean anymore?), he found his collection of Danny Phantom memorabilia growing, to the point where it even surpassed Paulina's impressive collection (She had a wad of gum he'd been said to be chewing, creepily enough). He tried drawing the ghost boy, but he got nothing but several wads of paper that had wound up in the trash, as his clumsy hands couldn't replicate the boy's slim fingers, or his delicate limbs, or his eyes.

He felt empty.

And while he bullied Danny worse than ever, he wondered about the phantom, who looked like he could easily be Fenton's long dead brother, or something. While the eyes and skin color were shades apart, the countenance was still the same, although Fenton usually looked more frightened and subdued; Phantom was forever smiling quirkily.

That smile had him up late in the shower more evenings then one.

Junior year passed. Amity Park became a safer place to live, and Danny Phantom much, much more popular. You started seeing DP memorabilia everywhere; Danny Phantom became a household name. Dash had even bought a plushie at the stores of his favorite hero, claiming that it was for his 'little sister.'

It was stashed under his pillow.

* * *

><p>Senior year. He received a scholarship for Notre Dame. But Danny, he'd heard, was competing for a study abroad program in flippin' overseas somewhere, where the space program was still continuing!<p>

Most likely, unless they had a high school reunion, he'd never see the twit again.

The thought was agonizing.

Okay. So he was (shudder) possibly gay. At least, he was in love with a pipsqueak and a ghost that reminded him of said pipsqueak. But his Dad never needed to find out! He'd simply say that he wasn't interested in getting married when he was older. Yeah, that was it.

….but Dad made it clear that he wanted grandkids someday. Crap. Well, he could always adopt one, though he wasn't actually a huge fan of the little….things to begin with.

One day, in the schoolyards. Dash was sadly turning over a Black-eyed Susan in his hands, his eyes dull while he perched on a table bench.

Okay. So he now knew he'd hated Fentina for existing to begin with. How long had he wanted to….?

Nope. He wasn't gonna go there. Negative. Dash abruptly shook his head, teeth grit.

He loved to LOOK at Phantom, only because he reminded him impossibly of Danny where he SHOULD be: Amongst the stars. Dash didn't know that much, but he knew Danny was beautiful, and that he was going to get somewhere special someday. Whereas he was probably going to get some concussion playing football, get seriously injured, and die after getting drunk, and driving his car into a wall. Or something.

Danny would be happy….probably with a chick like Manson. Dash let out a hollow laugh.

Even if he chose to stop obliging Daddy's demands, it didn't matter. It was coming up now to eleven years of cruelty, and Danny would never love him in turn. While confessing had practically always worked in the yaoi novels he had stashed under his bed, Fenton had SOME sanity. And the dude had been crushing on Paulina for years. He was straight.

Dash plucked the yellow petals of the flower, and watched them drift away, expression blank.

There is a sad sort of truth that many, if not all, homosexuals have to face in their lifetime: You'll invariably fall in love with someone 'straight,' and get your heart broken.

'Straight…..' as in, proper? Was he an abomination-or just a truly horrible person?

He let out a dry snort.

Yes, he was horrible. Without a doubt. Manson was right: He didn't HAVE any real friends. None at all. The moment Qwan had become an accessory, he'd been all too easy to drop away, like an unnecessary third arm.

But soon enough, graduation would come, and he would be moving away. Where would Danny be? Russia? England? Japan? God only knew.

Dash hopped off the bench, swearing under his breath, kicking angrily at a small can on the ground.

Why?

Why had this happened? Why did it have to be HIM? Why couldn't it have been-

_Whoooooossshhhhh. _

A bolt of twinkling darkness had zoomed past the startled jock, sending his blonde hair in a frenzied mess. Whipping his head around, Dash saw, much to his surprise, Danny Phantom hurtling around the next bend, bookbag slung around his shoulders.

Bewildered, mouth extremely dry, Dash gave chase, years of training only just allowing him to keep up with the shadow.


	2. My Huckleberry Friend

The Little Things

(?) Three-shot request for xechoheartx. When you have someone to loathe so dearly as Dash did for Daniel Fenton, the very worst and last thing you can do is fall in love with them. One-sided Swagger Bishie, Pitch Pearl.

~*0*~

Chapter Two: My Huckleberry Friend

* * *

><p>Well, this is kind of out of my comfort zone here, folks, but here's the latest installment. I thought of a possible ending for this story, but I try to write from an unbiased view, so...um...the ending might just surprise you, if you guys want me to write part III. I have a feeling that some of you will be out for my blood, and that's perfectly fine. *Shrugs* I might just be done with yaoi writing after this one. (Of course, I intend to finish all the stories I started.)<p>

'My Huckleberry Friend' is a line from a very famous tune called 'Moon River.' For some really weird reason or another, it makes me think of Dash...

I originally wanted to ask Echoheart if I could change the pairing from 'Pitch Pearl' to 'Pompous Pep,' because I have a little more experience in that field, but considering I could learn to take a look at Dash (When I really don't care for his character, it made me just a little more sympathetic for the jerk), I could explore the possibility of 'Phantom' having a personality of his own. (I hear ANY of you guys refer to Danny and Danny as 'aibou,' 'yami,' or 'hikari,' I will never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever update this story. EVER. I might give the third installment to Echoheart in private, because she's awesome, BUT YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED, PEOPLE!

:) Just kidding. But please don't flame me. In all honesty, too many people like to turn cartoons into heyday gaydays.

Please review and enjoy, everyone.

* * *

><p>Phantom was beautiful.<p>

That wasn't a term Dash Baxter used lightly, considering: One, the only things his family coined in such an eloquent sense usually was diamonds and fantasy football fields, and Two: He'd only learned what the word actually meant a few weeks ago.

Fervently glad that it was the weekend, Dash skulked underneath the soaring ghost's shadow on the ground, face soon shining with exertion, the familiar pounding starting off in his chest, as though he were chasing after a rival school's quarterback.

These were moments which Dash normally lived for, but now, there was a mingled sense of desperation in his speed, as though the clock were counting down the final seconds of a game. He mustn't lose sight of the ghost boy-not now, when he might actually get a chance to TALK to him.

It seemed most unlikely, but they knew one another, now. There had been that mess with that creepy metallic hunter ghost that had chased the two of them when they'd been puny little cockroaches running for their lives in Fentina's household.

The boy scoffed slightly as he ran, rich violet eyes anxiously scanning the skies.

It always came back to Fentina, but if he had to be a fag, might as well try flirting with a guy metrically out of his league. With any luck, Phantina would be a good sport, and slowly and gently break his heart with a look of disgust. That might chase the bully back to his senses, and he'd ask Paulina to the prom once she too realized that Phantina probably wouldn't go for her, either.

The thought left him surprisingly smug as he leapt over a series of bushes, cursing as the thorns and twigs got caught up in his jacket, tugging him backwards. Annoyed, after a moment, he simply shrugged it away, and hurled it to the side as Phantom began to descend towards the ground, near the little nook of trees that was behind the outskirts of Casper High property.

It had only cost seventy dollars. Jackets could be repurchased. This, however, could not be missed, not without him feeling singularly regretful, possibly for the rest of his life.

At least, more so than he normally was deep down inside.

He would be leaving for school soon, and chances were, he'd never see Phantina ever again. What would he say, how he'd introduce himself, he didn't know. The ghost hadn't been all that happy with him once the jock had proposed that they shove Fenton's head down the toilet together-old habits die hard-and had shrunk him again with that weird little machine, only begrudgingly returning Dash to normal once he could make out a tiny apology from a figure that was maybe an inch and a half tall.

So Phantina was decent. Hopefully, he at least recalled Dash more than just last week's news, but he'd be willing to settle for that.

He ran past the locked school doors, nearly tripped over a row of bike slots, and muttered a few more choice profanities as he dashed after the ghost, stumbling onhis was more appealing than a sweepstakes drawing for a date with Ember McLain. (Only much more so, considering it was all too likely that he was…..well…..)

He nearly ran headlong into a tree, so transfixed by the sky had he been. Rubbing the stinging side of his face that HAD been smacked headlong into the oak, the teenager angrily paused, kicked the tree, which altogether didn't do much good, considering there was now a stinging star of pain present in his foot now as well as his now swollen left side of his face. Wincing, Dash's uninjured eye went to searching for his target again, only to find, much to Baxter's despair, that it had disappeared. After scanning frantically back and forth, however, amongst the few picnic benches scattered out here, he found, with a sigh of relief, that the ghost had landed, and was now a mere twenty feet away, peering up into the blooming leaves on a nearby tree.

Dread took the place of joy, and the other half of his face colored. The blond found himself hurriedly ducked behind a tree, panting heavily, his chest continuously rising and falling from exertion. His heart was thudding like a jackhammer behind his ribs, or like a bunch of overpaid, overmuscled football players trampling their way down a field.

He was scared. Much as he loathed to admit it, he was most certainly frightened.

Danny Phantom turned his head, pewter green eyes glittering, while his ghostly white hair flickered serenely over his eyes in the late afternoon breeze. He let out a soft sigh, and picked up a small stone on the ground, considered it, and it disappeared in his silvery fist. After a moment, the ghost boy's entire hand burst into crackling emerald flames.

Still peeking out behind the tree, Dash opened his mouth to shout out a warning, but just as suddenly as they had appeared, the fire had vanished, and now, Amity Park's self-appointed deputy's beautiful, graceful hand was left untouched, sleek, and shining in its glove once again. The ghost opened his fist, and watched as a trickle of ashes was swept away to the Earth with a strong blast of wind that set his brilliant hair flying.

All the blood pooled to Dash's face as a group of upset birds indignantly fluttered away, cawing or twittering their discontent. For a moment, Phantom just stood there, and Dash was glad for it, and for the silence. Speaking would only break the magic, this surreal scene from a dead dude that might as well be an angel, or an-

He froze as he heard footsteps. Superb reflexes had him whipping his head around sharply at the slight noise in this little glade, but he saw nothing. Phantom, however, appeared to have had heard it also, and as Dash's greedy gaze flickered back to him, he heard him speak:

"I was hoping you'd come," he said, after a moment's pause, his Peridot eyes downcast. "I didn't really want to…..y'know, leave things the way we did last time."

For a moment, Dash fancied that he was talking to him, and his heart nearly pounded itself out of his chest out of sheer shock, mortification, and hope. Just as he put out a foot, and readied to reveal himself, he heard, much to his surprise, a small voice answer him.

"This beats having you sleep outside my house. If you tried following me to class one more time, I swear, I was going to get out my Dad's old thermos again."

Confused, Dash hastily swept himself back into his hiding place as Danny Fenton stepped into the circle of green, a number of dark circles draped underneath his eyes, and a scowl set on his face.

Mentally screaming, Dash sank against the tree, flattening himself against it for dear life before silently burying his face into one hand.

Fenton. Of all people. Of course. Who else would it be? Thank God the kid sounded upset, because if these two had been buddy-buddy, he'd be harder than the rock before Phantom incinerated it to dust.

Once in a while, he managed to revolt himself. Now, he needed to vomit, because images like that one from that XXX-rated movie Qwan had filched from his parents' were flooding into his head, and he bit the inside of his mouth to suppress a groan.

Maybe it was high time he stepped outside his hiding place, and just ask the ghost kid to put him out of his misery.

But now, Phantom was speaking again, and his curiosity overrode his dirty little mind. Dash carefully peeked his head out, surprised that Phantom was now glaring back at the human teen, although he looked decidedly more sheepish. Worry for Fentina's sake bloomed inside of him, in spite of himself, as Phantom started speaking again, expression serious.

"I would have followed you to class on Friday-"

"You DID, you jerk. Haunting me outside the window while I'm trying to take a test and disappearing when I point you out to my classmates is probably going to earn me a trip to the funny farm, thanks a bunch." Danny F. snapped, his voice taking a sarcastic and bitter tone that Dash had never heard before from the teen.

Speaking of which, hadn't Fenton looked kind of sick that day, too? He hadn't tried to notice or anything, but at the very least, he'd rescheduled Danny's three-o'clock pummeling to next Thursday.

The lovely (He was using so many adjectives today; his tutor Jasmine would be proud) ghost sighed, his glowing shoulders sinking wearily.

"You know what I mean," he said, and now, he just sounded imploring. "I would have overshadowed Lancer if I thought it might've helped. Look, you ignoring me after what Vlad did isn't going to cut us both any favors unless we sit and-"

And Dash thought, judging from the angry-hot pulsations from his aching face, that HIS ears were red. Danny's brilliant blue eyes narrowed into angry, lapis lazuli slits, blushing furiously.

"Look. I know Vlad cut us apart from each other," he said carefully, his teeth grit, "And I kind of miss having the ghost powers, but-"

"That's all I am to you?"

Phantom sounded hurt, and now, Dash was more bewildered than ever. But Danny just shot him an irate glance.

"That's neither here nor there. I didn't ask to get stuck in that glass chamber with you, but I remember I DIDN'T ask for you to-to-"

The boy choked; Phantom sighed again, though his own face darkened. Dash wondered whether or not it was a ghostly equivalent of a blush.

"We had no choice. We tried getting out of that stupid machine for hours, and the fact that you were shackled to my neck wasn't helping matters-"

"So now it's _my_ fault?"

"-but having that sick freak just LOOKING at us all the while made me want to turn his insides out. And if he had his way, he would have kept us in that miserable, happy little corner of hell for a good few days if we didn't comply. I did what I did because I wanted to be free. It was joyous enough that I didn't have a human heart shackling me to you anymore; the fact that I was LITERALLY chained to you just made matters worse-"

Now Fentina was the one looking hurt, though he did a good (poor) job of trying to hide it.

"So…that's it, then?" he asked carefully, taking a few tentative steps around the clearing, noting that the ghost wasn't breaking gaze. "You don't have….any more inhibitions, now that you're dead, and you…..just wanted to get out?"

A muscle was going in the ghost's mouth, but he nodded.

"Exactly," the ghost said quietly, watching the teen carefully. "I know no pretense. I wanted my freedom, and that sick man promised us a ticket out of that stupid, ectoplasmic box if we….well…."

Danny was eyeing the ghostly twin of himself apprehensively, though there was also something else etched into his brow.

"As I recall, he….only wanted to watch us….'have fun….'" He said sadly, and his hands slowly curled into trembling fists. The human looked like he wanted nothing more than to throw himself off a cliff, and Dash bit his lip, now worried. Whatever he was describing sounded pretty sick, (Though he couldn't deny that it made him just a little hot inside) and sounded frankly illegal. Though he was pretty positive that whatever crime reported to the authorities would kinda get debauched once they learned ghosts were involved.

Fenton, however, was still speaking.

"…I don't know why, though. Probably because he's just a sick bastard. I thought I was going to throw up after the first three hours of pounding at that wall, and no luck. And…after that…."

Golly, but Danny-er, Fenton-could go red. As Danny tuckied his hands behind him, Dash couldn't help but notice that he looked remarkably like a teenage girl about to ask a boy out, despite the fact that he was not in her socioeconomic status, or in the right class of popularity. A very pretty teenage girl whom was very skinny and had a pixie cut and he needed to stop right now before he did something very very stupid and-

"Look, I just…forgot Plasmius was even in the room, and we wound up playing his little game," Danny said at last, looking away at the dark clouds moving eagerly close together. "I don't know-I've never….I swear I didn't have any idea….it just….YOU just….."

Spit it out, Fentina. Dash leaned closer as to better hear the conversation, and heard the dark-haired Danny's voice break.

"It happened so fast, and then you were on top of me, and it just went on from there. I tried to get you off of me-"

"For a second, before you were clinging to me-" Phantom blurted out, in spite of himself.

Danny shot the ghost a filthy look.

"And I realize ghosts don't really have the same…._mindset_ humans do, because, according to Mom and Dad's books, you guys are more….carnal."

"Thanks a heap," said Phantom sarcastically, but Danny F was not yet finished.

"Look, you guys don't go with the whole 'formalities' thing, so I suppose that's why you don't feel regret about screwing yourself into a wall-"

Dash's pants were now uncomfortably tight, but there were more important things to pay attention to, now. Danny Phantom was casting his human counterpart a shocked and indignant look, his silver eyebrows set to a cold glower.

"I am, despite what you think, NOT you, Danny," he said, his voice dangerously soft as he stepped casually closer to Danny, and Dash winced. Oh, yeah. He'd seen that kind of walk before-he himself had done it about half a dozen times, and had witnessed it firsthand in that bar with the blacked out windows he'd visited just the other week, telling himself that it was just a humble little experiment….

Danny F was slowly retreating from his counterpart, face paling. Dash had seen that face before, too, when he'd threatened to beat the boy up for his lunch money in second grade. Phantom's expression, however, while fanatical and hungry, was foreign to him. At the very least, he'd never seen the ghost look so entreating before.

"Not _anymore_," said the ghost. "And while I don't feel regret for a lot of things that I'VE done….that you've done…." He said mildly, casting the paralyzed human teen in front of him a gentle look as he stepped a little closer, "I AM sorry for hurting you like that. Though," he added, his low voice slinking into a purr as he strode over to the other boy, eyes lidded. "I don't feel the slightest bit of regret entering you. You were _wonderful_."

Wow. If that were not a bedroom voice, Dash didn't know what one was. The blush drained entirely out of Danny's face, and the boy moved subtly away, careful to keep a good ten feet between the two.

The next expression that crossed on the boy's face when he turned around was also one that Dash had seen before: It had been on his own face after that visit to the bar, where they hadn't even bothered to check his ID, and he'd stumbled out into the rain, smelling of sex and shame, and had stared wildly at his expression in a nearby puddle as the rain had tumbled down overhead.

Self-hatred, horror, and maybe just a bit of wild intrigue and desire had stared back at him. And Fentina now mirrored him.

"I'm glad I lost you when I died," Danny cried, a slight tremor in his voice. "I can't believe I was carrying someone….something like YOU! That was….that was _masturbation _that night! You're a narcissistic-"

But Dash knew that Fentina had gone too far-Phantom's eyes burst into flames, both proverbial and literal, and a patch of grass nearby was immediately shot ablaze, soon dying out into a smoking pile of ashes. Danny scrabbled backwards, his mouth becoming a small O as Phantom shot forward with an inarticulate shout, and promptly tackled the other teenager to the ground.

Dash's body became rigid with fright, and his own jaw dropped. Sweat burst on his brow, and he would have cried out, but was now too scared to make a sound.

_This was for real. Fenton's in trouble._

Did he run for help and find one of those random ghost hunters around Amity? Or did he….

Dash's eyes flickered to the nearby parking lot and back, and he leaned on his back lag, torn between staying and tearing the heck out of here. But ultimately, he froze up when the specter dragged the boy to his feet, and slammed him against a tree, breathing raggedly.

For a moment, there was silence. Deathly silence to the bully's ears, accompanied only by the blood pounding in his ears. Then-

"I may have once been _physically_ you, but my_ personality_ is mine, and mine alone," Dash heard the ghost hiss, fury rolling off him in droves. "And if I'm really YOU, as you put it, you just marked yourself as a _narcissistic thing_. Do you like that? Huh?"

Danny was shaking. He didn't answer. Scowling, Phantom grabbed him by the shoulders, and started to shake Fenton roughly.

"Well? And let's not forget, other-me, you were moaning when I touched you."

Danny pushed at his assailant pointlessly, leaning his head away, frantic.

"So?" he shouted, his voice an octave higher than normal. "That should have never happened to begin with-I'm just hormonal, is all! In a few weeks, I'll be out of your hair and you'll be out of mine; I'm leaving. Just…if you don't want to merge with me again, than leave me alone!"

The phantom sneered.

"You have NO idea what a burden a human heart is, other me," he said quietly, pain flickering in his eyes, and from the way Danny F was wincing, his grip on his shoulders was doubling. "Honestly, it's like having an ANCHOR in your chest….dying is so _liberating_. I don't know why you people are so afraid of it-you're only free of all your stupid rules that people set up to make any pointless sanity in living when there's so much beauty in not being alive! When I became sentient, I wanted nothing more than to soar to the hereafter, but was dismayed to find myself locked inside a body-a body of _flesh and warm blood_, when I'm made of _cold ectoplasm_! _Still enjoy being me,_ other-"

"Stop calling me that!"

"You're the one who insisted that I _was_ you. But you're only human; I imagine that all of you will seize at straws of broken and disjointed logic for your own security," Danny Phantom said, with a bitter smile.

"But never mind. The only thing that helped was the fact that I still was in your consciousness; human memories hadn't faded for me just yet. It was_ agonizing_ for me, I'll have you very well know-like becoming a balloon and being tied to a stone underneath the water. I sometimes entertained thoughts of motivating you to your own suicide just so that I could be free, but the urge to keep yourself alive-your survival instincts-hadn't died in that blast in the lab. And when I got put to work helping you restore peace to Amity Park, well….."

He shrugged, looking resigned.

"Let's just say that I grew too busy, and took a lot of satisfaction in letting my powers to continue to grow. Being linked to a human body allowed my powers to keep developing alongside my-your-ghost half's. And…."

He turned back around, and leaned his forehead against the shaking boy's. Dash would have dearly loved to have heard what the ghost boy was saying, but he only caught a few words from his position:

_"Really-so warm….inside…body…..thoughts. After a while….couldn't…..didn't…bear…..departing…..home. You…so dear…" _

Phantom leaned back, and resumed talking in his normal pitch.

"When you split yourself into two the first time, half of me was severed also-partly stuck in that ridiculous, puffed-up version of US, partly in that drone, lazy human boy-also US."

He paused. Dash leaned backwards, tasting something metallic in his mouth. He was biting his lip rather hard, now.

_This is too nuts. I can't understand JIP of all this shit. Phantom's…Fentina? Was? Who the hell ARE these people? _

"And I think….in that horrible, horrible, hypothetical dimension CW showed us….when you tore me away…I was so scared, and so angry, that you were leaving me behind and leaving me to die when all I ever wanted was to stay and keep us _safe_…..I overreacted. It was _my_ impulse for you to cheat on that test-you people do it ALL THE TIME, and never lose a thing! You, on the other hand, lost your family, and yet you lived, only to-"

"You murdered me."

"With Vlad's help."

"You still killed me. In cold blood."

The silver-haired Danny shuddered, and leaned away, his silver hair fluttering in the wind again. Danny's midnight spikes were trembling as well. Dash shivered, and not just because it was getting colder outside.

"And that," Danny Phantom said, his voice tight with regret, "If you'll pardon the expression, will haunt me to my dying day."

Fentina shot him a wary look.

"Okay. Uh…..fine. Sorry. But if you, um, don't mind me asking, is there any other reason other than….the incident….at Vlad's…..why you're…..here?" he squeaked out pathetically, after a few moments.

_Holy crap, Fentina, ya sound like a girl. And look like one, too._

Danny P sighed, as though he were explaining a simple concept repetitively to a young child.

"Danny, I'm coming with you." He said tenderly. "To New Zealand-for your program. Congratulations on that, by the way; you should be very proud of yourself. I knew you'd have more time to study if you didn't have to worry about your town."

Dash's mind abruptly drew a blank.

_New Zealand? But that's…..that's uh….uh….probably entire STATES away! If Phantina and Fentina are the same, then-_

But Danny immediately interrupted him, hoarse with disbelief.

"What? No," he snapped, to Dash's relief. "Look, whatever might have happened between us, I…..I really AM glad for the break, but I can't let you come with me. Besides, who would look after this place?"

Phantom rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms.

"I'm not this town's babysitter anymore, Danny. If people can't learn to look after themselves here, then they'll simply have to leave. Believe it or not, it's not YOUR fault or MY fault that people are dumb enough to build a metropolis near one of the world's biggest dimensional rift planes between this human plane and the ghostly one of the Dead Zone."

_The what of a what?_

Danny F was speechless for a moment. Judging by the indignant flush trickling back into his face, he was getting a little feisty again.

"You….you can't be serious! People have lived here for over a hundred years, you know! They have families…lives….there's an entire community that could be wiped out, here! You can't seriously be-"

"I'm dead," said Phantom dryly. "Dead serious, as a matter of fact."

"Not funny."

"I think it is."

Danny stomped his foot, and his hands flew to his hair, face contorted with anger.

"Look, pal, I didn't complain when I first started ghost hunting- and carried on with it for four years-"

"Because of that senseless spirit of yours and that unbelievable sense to give," said the ghost, sounding bored. "No one would believe it possible unless they'd been tucked inside of your heart for years, which you seem to forget, I HAVE been. I only went along with it because of YOU. Danny, I think it's time I got to the meat of the matter. I-"

"That's so irresponsible-what about all of the-"

The ghost whipped his head around, eyes flashing dangerously, and Danny fell silent, although he was still sending his counterpart a death stare.

"Danny. You know how some people die, and that's simply the end of it? No whispers from bereaved ghosts, no trace of their spirit, no anything?" asked the Phantom.

The new topic of conversation caught the teen off guard, and he sent a confused look in the ghost's direction. But now, Danny Phantom was glowering at the darkening sky overhead, which now had the occasional, ominous flash of light twinkling behind the heavy rain clouds. After a moment, Phantom fixed his gaze back to the human teen, looking hungry again.

"The reason so many are lucky to simply GO is because they have absolutely nothing to stay FOR," he said at last, his eyes lidding. "They die in peace, not angry, not obsessive, just…so. They just lived. And when that happens, they can go….wherever it is we go on to. Others, however, have hatred, bitterness, vendettas, or obsessions that make them cling to this world with cold, skeletal fingers. For some," he snorted, "It's hunting, for others, it's cooking, and for others still, it's cardboard boxes.

I didn't really have any reason to stay," he confessed, looking at Danny F fondly. "When I died. And that's why I grieved when I found I was stuck by your side, before I grew to enjoy YOUR joy when the two of us could do good together….it's….infectious. But now, I'm no longer linked to a beating heart, Danny. And yet, I have not vanished to move on. Why do you think that is?"

Danny wordlessly shook his head, although he was looking nervous again. Phantom smiled.

"I now have an obsession. I now know why I remain here; it's because I DO have a reason to stay, and something that I must follow, or else my ectoplasm will stop coursing from my core, and I will cease to be entirely."

"What is it?" Dash heard Danny murmur, through unmoving lips.

Phantom seemed only too happy to answer.

"That incident with Vlad taught me more about US than four years of staying inside of your soul did. While I assure you, I got even with Vlad for daring to sedate us and imprison us, I-"

"What….what did you do?" the human teen choked out. The ghost shrugged.

"Got even, of course. He deserved it entirely, you know. Just watching us make love is unforgivable enough-"

"THAT WAS-"

"Call it what you like," said Phantom, sounding bored again. "Anyway, hopefully a refresher on how much he loathes hospitals should do him some good. I poisoned his tea. THAT'S why he hasn't bothered you for days."

The jock's shaking fingertips tightened around the edges of the bark, gripping so tightly that his knuckles were turning starkly white.

Now, Dash respected people raising the bar for bullying more than the next person, but this was…..his hero did…..

Danny sounded petrified when he cried out again. Phantom attempted to approach him, hands raised, murmuring soothing nothings, but Danny backed away, bumping into the back of a nearby tree, his legs wobbling underneath him like jelly, looking ready to give out.

"I….you…._no_! You _poisoned_ him? You-you're a mur-"

"I didn't try to kill him!" snapped Phantom, thankfully stopping his advance dead in his tracks. "I'm not THAT depraved-what kind of ghost do you think I am?"

"I don't know!" Fentina shrieked. "I swear I don't know ANYTHING anymore!"

The scream sent more birds surrounding the two taking wing to the air. A BOOM of thunder echoed in response to another flash of light in the sky. Dash only stared. Phantom pinched the bridge of his nose with his gloved fingertips, taking a deep breath. He looked after a moment, smiling sardonically.

"Relax. While that sad, sick old idiot deserves a lot more than just a friendly meeting with Mr. Stomach Pump for the next three or four weeks, I didn't do anything that would throw his immediate life in danger. And I SWEAR I didn't do anything else after that," the silver-haired boy pledged, raising a right hand. But suddenly, he sneered. "Other than short sheet every bed in his mansion and draw glasses and goatees on all his Packer memorabilia posters and action figures-"

"Vlad collects action figures?" asked Danny Fenton, sounding nonplussed.

Phantom grinned. "Yep. And sorry, I _did_ lie just now-I also took a few pictures of his newly designed collection, and posted them on the web. Let's see how he can hold onto season seats when the team sees just what he does with their likenesses. But I digress."

He took a tentative step closer to Danny, still smiling oddly.

"The point is, I could have murdered Vlad, but I didn't, because I knew it would only upset you. I'm sorry I physically hurt you the way I did, but to be frank, we would have spent days in that glass tomb, and Vlad would have watched us with that sick little smile of his the entire time. But I don't regret doing what I did, because it was fantastic, and it helped me realize what NOW chains me to this world. But now, I embrace it-I WANT to stay. I have to follow it."

He cocked his head to the side, smile still present.

"Danny, I'm in love with you."

Dash started, jaw dropping as Danny shot a horrified look at his double, hands flying to his stomach as though he were about to be sick.

"That's….I…..no," he said weakly, making a move to back away from the clearing altogether. "D-er, Phantom, or whatever or whoever you are, I….think you're making a-"

"I'm not going to stay behind in this backwater town any longer," said Phantom quietly, and Dash noticed he was no longer smiling. "I need to be with you. You're wonderful; I can't believe you remain so blissfully in DENIAL of how good you are. Anyone else would have used me to fry that sick little pig bully of yours off the face of the planet. I'll gladly hunt him down myself, if you'd give me permission. The sin wouldn't be on your hands."

"_What_?" Danny sputtered. "No! I don't know what the hell is wrong with you, but you're not allowed to touch or hurt ANYONE! _Do you understand me_? Not Dash, Not Vlad, and definitely not me! I won't let-"

In the blink of an eye, Phantom had rushed up to him a bolt of white, spectral tail replacing his legs in his haste. The dark appendage curled entreatingly around the boy's body, and now Danny started to beat wildly against his captor's shoulders while the ghost boy captured his face, and forced him to look upwards.

"I'm no longer in your jurisdiction," Dash heard him hiss, his eyes yellowing in color, becoming painfully bright. "You can't tell me what to do anymore. But please don't be afraid of me. I_ understand_ you, Danny-"

"Then you'd UNDERSTAND THAT I WANT YOU TO GET OFF OF ME! Let me go!"

"-better than anyone else does! I WAS you! You've worked too hard for too long to have to labor through school-I can help you! I can give you whatever your heart desires, and I can show you the world, if you'll just let me!"

The anger faded to something sweet, but Dash heard none of it.

"I love you. I love you better than I love me, better than you love yourself! Let me prove it to you-"

And with that, still draped around the teen's body, Phantom moved his lips to feather across Danny's cheeks, lovingly nuzzling at the base of the boy's throat, ignoring the teen's desperate attempts to avoid the ministrations, like a trapped coyote gnawing off its own limbs for freedom out of a steel trap.

"Help!" Danny shouted frantically, trying to duck Phantom's attempt to kiss him. "Helllllllp! I-mrph-"

And that was when Dash threw reason out the window, and did what would ultimately become one of the noblest and stupid endeavors of his life. Without another thought, he sprang out into the clearing, sprinted behind the squirming duo-

And abruptly smashed his fist into Phantom's face just as the startled ghost turned around at the noise, sending him flying directly into a large ash tree as Danny crumpled to his knees.

Breathing raggedly, Dash stared down the upside down ghost that was staring up at him in shock, a trickle of green racing down from his nose.

Cracking his sore knuckles, Dash snickered in spite of himself, ignoring the dawning comprehension that was slowly trickling down on him in small increments.

"No one gets ta use Fentina as a punching bag 'sides me, ya little freak."

Behind him, Danny staggered to his feet, hands pressed over his face, eyes as enormous as if the Easter bunny had just stormed the area with the tooth fairy at his side.

For a moment, Phantom just stared at his attacker, before his eyes slowly narrowed in fury, and a truly evil smile curled his mouth into a smirk.

"Oh?" he asked politely, before gliding up to a standing position, keeping his emerald eyes deadlocked on the blonde standing in front of the frightened teenage boy cowering uncertainly behind him.

"I beg to differ."

And with a casual burst of ectoplasm, Phantom abruptly slammed Dash Baxter in the chest, sending him directly into the tree behind him, causing the trunk to shake violently as the jock slid to the ground, spots and stars looming in his vision, and a crack of fiery agony exploded in his ribs. He would have gasped or screamed, but could not make a sound.

Somewhere, he heard Fentina cry out, and the ground was spinning wildly beneath him, and he tasted blood in his mouth, and the smell of grass was permeating his nostrils, making his head spin even more wildly. When his vision finally refocused, he found himself staring dazedly up at the ghost, who now had both palms glimmering with bolts of cold fire at the ready.

He shivered; Phantom WAS different than Fenton. Fenton was soft and wimpy, whereas this maniac's face was inexplicably hard, and every outline was etched with the bitter callousness of pure hatred.

"Oh, I'm gonna enjoy this," Phantom murmured serenely, and a wild look of joy permeated the previous gentle look he had reserved for his human self. He most certainly didn't look sane.

And he raised his palm over his enemy, and Dash heard Danny scream for him again.

It seemed like it would be the last thing he ever heard.


	3. Dreammaker, Heartbreaker, Part I

The Little Things

Conclusion: Dreammaker, Heartbreaker, Part I

~0*0~

…..

….

….yes, Lauren is an awful person. *Facepalms*

*Sighs* Okay. Before I am stoned to my doom, (As I know I should be) I just wanted to apologize. This story wound up giving me more trouble than I realized it would when I had to rethink the ending. Nothing really seemed _right_. I worked on other stories, hoping that it might help, but it just increased the pool of guilt in my stomach and the nagging sense that I wasn't working on my requests, as I knew I should be. xEchoheartx gave me an absolutely amazing art piece; (Check out her gallery on DeviantArt; her work beith awesomesauce!) I don't think this is half as special, but I needed to give something in return, and fulfill my end of the bargain. Part II is pretty much finished, but it needs some more editing.

Um…again: I am a stranger to writing actual sex scenes. *Blushing* Did my best. Can you guess who the "other" in the beginning is? ;) I'd be so deliciously entertained if you would offer your guesses!

xEchoheartx, again, I'm sorry I took so long to complete your storyline. I truly hope you enjoy it, and a thousand words of thanks for your wonderful comic. *Triple hugs* Respect and admiration always.

Yes, all the chapter names are from the old song "Moon River." Don't ask me why I thought it was a perfect fit…

Very much hope you all enjoy. No, I do not own Danny Phantom. I think this should be fairly obvious by now….^^

~0*0~

_"Moon River, wider than a mile,_

_I'm crossing you in style someday._

_Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker,_

_Wherever you're going, I'm going your way._

_Two drifters off to see the world._

_There's such a lot of world to see._

_We're after the same rainbow's end-_

_Waiting 'round the bend,_

_My huckleberry friend,_

_Moon River and me."_

_~0*0~_

* * *

><p><em>Prologue<em>

_There were still stars dancing in his eyes when he came after the former ghost boy again._

_Danny let out a soft grunt as his back rammed into the wall, momentarily knocking the wind out of him. And immediately he was reaching for the teen with a groan, impatiently hoisting up Danny's t-shirt in the darkness. Petrified, Danny heard a quiet growl in front of him as his companion seized him by the shoulder blades, and immediately began kissing and biting his neck, hot tongue tracing sensual circles on his skin. Struck dumb, Danny just stood there, though piercing alarms were echoing throughout his mind._

_He couldn't do this. But if he didn't, Danny might as well dig a grave now; his desperate paramour had made it quite clear that someone was going to die if Danny didn't let him hold him. And the death would be on his hands._

_But it was growing into something else entirely, and if he didn't stop now, there was no way he could later on. He wriggled under the other's strong hands, longing to call out for help but knew it was useless; they were completely and entirely alone. There would be no one to hear him scream. _

_The skin belonging to the one who was now nuzzling his ears was sweaty; he could feel it. The conflicted boy's eyes lidded as the other began to bury itself into every crook of his ear, stroking softly. _

Oh, God…..

_He was despicable if he let this continue, doomed if he pulled away now. The dark-haired teen knew that this had gone on long enough; he needed to get help. What he was doing now would only destroy them both sooner or later. _

_But what could he do if the alternative was a death on his hands? He didn't want anyone to suffer-had never wanted anyone to suffer, became Amity Park's self-appointed deputy for years. _

_Then, the one time he'd tried to be a regular human and pursue his own happiness and first love, he'd been punished. The irony made Danny choke on a laugh as well as a slight sob. _

_His blue eyes burned with tears in the darkness as his lips were again accosted. The kisses were warm and rough and ragged, and he could feel fingers reverently tugging his face closer. Miserable, Danny nonetheless moaned as the other began frantically waylaying him with his hands and lips and body and scent. He seized Danny in an open-mouthed kiss, which Danny sank into, his eyes rolling back into his head as he wrapped a leg around the other's waist, shivering at the friction. Reluctantly, Danny's fingertips brushed against the other's six pack, and traveled upwards, trailing up the other's firm bicep._

_A pause, than a ragged laugh, and a purr:_

"See something you like, Danny?"

_Danny bit his lip as the other again kissed him, this time so passionately the entire room was spinning, and the one leg he had supporting himself was wobbling fiercely underneath him. Oh, God. Oh, God, this was not good, this was not good; he needed to detach himself now before this went any further. _

_The former hybrid pulled his wet and swollen lips out of the hot kiss, blushing fiercely in the dark. He tried to unwind his leg from the other, tried to speak. But the other certainly wasn't having it; the teen was abruptly slammed against the wall again, and his other leg was seized. Danny gasped sharply as his companion proceeded to kiss and suckle at his bare knee, making him shift uncomfortably under the other's grip. Soon enough, the other simply wrapped Danny's other knee around his waist so that the raven-headed boy had no choice but to straddle the other. _

"Please," _said Danny anxiously, his voice rising with fear._ "I don't-aagggh!"

_His shirt was torn off, and now there was a pair of warm lips suckling at his collarbone, trailing down to his right nipple. Shuddering, Danny tried to push the other away, but the attempt was weak; he unconsciously threw an arm around the other's neck as the other swirled a tongue over the delicate skin, withdrawing from the pink skin only to blow slightly on it. Then, the other's tongue trailed lazily across Danny's alabaster chest to the other, and Danny stiffened as he bit back another moan, vision spasming. Then, the other pulled away, but that was only to shed his own shirt. Immediately afterward, the two were chest to chest, heat to heat. Danny's heart started pounding as a finger reached his jeans, and lightly stroked his hip bone. Then, it slid further down into his jeans, and Danny threw his head back with a startled cry as the hand seized his hot, hard length. The hand was shaking, but it was caressing him in such a way that had him shaking again, his brow growing sweaty, moans falling freely from his mouth. _

_A hand at his pants. Danny's hand went to the other man's, but he didn't even try to prevent him from peeling his jeans off of him. A hitched breath from the other. Then-_

"Feel me."

_Danny was pressed against the other man's bulge, and he wrapped his other arm around the other man's shoulders, and he pressed his forehead against the toned chest, shuddering as he felt the other one's hot pulse against his own, straining against his pants. Pleasure was blooming in his stomach, momentarily overtaking his guilt. Ohhhh. He ground against the other, luxuriating in the friction bursting from their flesh. Another shaky laugh from the other, and he shelled himself of his own pants, leaving the both completely naked. Still holding onto him, Danny's nervousness slowly trickled back to him as the other's tongue returned to his chest, trailing sensually down the petite form, stopping at his navel. Danny let out another moan of appreciation, and the other's lips trailed down, down, down…._

_Oh!_

_Danny's hands trembled like jello, and he wanted to thrust deeper into the other's mouth, but was afraid of choking the other, monster he was. A hot tongue kept tenderly stroking across his pulsing head, swallowing around the trembling muscle. Before he reached his peak however, the other withdrew, chest heaving, eyes gleaming in the darkness, glossed with lust. _

_Then, without another word, the other man carried Danny across the room, to the bed. Danny fell against the soft sheets, far past caring what happened now. The toned body eagerly slithered over his, and his mouth was engaged in a kiss, hot tongues sensually sliding against one another as the other predatorily drew his supple body towards him. Danny had blindly wrapped his arms around the other's shoulder as he felt the other's throbbing length touch against his entrance. _

_This was going to hurt._

_This was going to hurt badly, and he didn't care. He could wonder whether or not he were an emotional cutter later on. Now, his head was swimming with desire, and his body was aching for the other to be_ inside.

_There would be more than enough time to regret this later._

~(*0*)~

* * *

><p><strong>"Nooooooooo!"<strong>

Fentina's scream was a hollow sort of ringing in his own ears, meaning little to the stunned bully. Considering, however, that he now had more stars racing around his eyes than that time he'd been kicked in the head by a little pony at one of his mother's polo tournaments, it was forgivable. Still, Baxter would be lying if he didn't feel a dim sense of appreciation for the kid's shouting, although it was masked by his irritation that Fentina had not gotten the hint and run for his life.

Or….at the very least, he wasn't sure if he had. The only thing he could really see swimming in and out of his vision was Phantom's furious eyes boring holes into his own, and an absolutely wicked smile blooming on his face. The ghost was still standing over him, still flexing his silver hands, even though Dash knew that his old crush could probably send a bolt of energy at his head, which would probably have the same effect of a speeding bullet.

Phantom bent down, seized Dash by the scruff of his dark shirt, and heaved him upwards, his Peridot eyes still flashing dangerously as his hands curled around Dash's neck. Like a dying little animal, the jock struggled and flailed and kicked hopelessly in midair, gasping as the ghost boy's grip began to grow tighter, and his lungs began to burn for air. Spots flashed before his vision, and even as he viciously attacked and clawed at the ghost's unrelenting, steel-like silver hands, he knew one thing:

He was dying.

Beautiful, classic strangulation. Clean, yet normally effective, giving your victim a chance to struggle and be humiliated before they slowly yet rapidly fell into darkness, and died. Phantom had taste.

Struggling to gasp and to breathe, Dash choked, wincing as the ghost's grip tightened.

If Phantom really had been a part of Danny once, he was probably craven for revenge on his tormentor after all these years. Could Dash really blame him? He was surprised to find that he was not especially angry at his attacker, even if he still felt the rush of hot fury and resentment when his dying mind flickered back to Phantom's desperate attempt to steal a kiss from Fentina.

Gosh, it was a wonder he had time to think about all this. Phantom could have easily broken him in two, but the ghost was really trying to make him suffer, even if he could dimly see that his teeth were grit and the specter's face was melted with fury. With any luck, it wouldn't be much longer, and the snap would come, so that he could drop to the ground like an unwanted marionette.

He couldn't say it was his top choice in terms of ways to go-he'd always figured it would have been a football injury or driving drunk or a bullet to the head when his secret ruined him.

_But I got ta see Fentina one last time. That's gotta count for somethin'. I rescued him. And he probably won't end up as Phantina's screwtoy. Dat's…..dat's good, too. _

His vision went red, and it loomed ominously into darkness. He hoped it would be quick, because the agony was building up and becoming unbearable; he wondered if his eyes would truly roll back into their sockets and-

And suddenly, Phantom's grip loosened. He did not let Dash go, but instead of holding him by the neck, the bully found himself being harshly clutched by the shoulders. It hurt, and his neck throbbed horribly, but he was greedily gulping in air, his mind still swimming, vision still foggy. After a moment, Phantom spoke.  
>"Danny. Put that down. Right now."<p>

He sounded as uneasy as the time Dash and his father had gone hunting, and the seven year old had jokingly pointed the rifle at his dad, not truly realizing what he'd been doing. Rolling his head around, trying to groan, but shuddering as his throat started throbbing in protest, Dash waited until his vision had refocused somewhat, and he was faintly aware of a silhouette standing before them, crouched.

He moaned inwardly. _Damn you, Fenton, why didn't you run?_

His vision slowly trickled back into focus, and he found himself once again at the receiving end of Danny Fenton's glower, blue eyes shot with fire. Dash almost shivered.

And he was clutching what was Phantom's trademark: The silver and green metallic spectral thermos.  
>Phantom was now glaring back at his acclaimed lover, but he warningly held Dash up in front of him, as if to use him a human shield.<p>

"Danny," the ghostly counterpart of Daniel Fenton said quietly. "Drop that thing immediately."

"Drop yours first."

Did Fentina refer him as a thing? Oh, that was nice. But to his surprise, Phantom only closed his eyes, shrugged, and dropped him the bully like a bag of bricks. Dash let out a cry of pain that was abruptly choked off into a silent gasp by the exploding discomfort in his throat and his ribcage. Phantom's silver hand rushed for the bully's blond hair and seized it, holding it warningly as Dash lay on the ground, panting, the scent of grass and blood permeating his senses again.

"Let go of him," muttered Danny warningly, never once dipping his weapon. Phantom surveyed him apprehensively.

"You let go of that device. Danny, don't start something we'll both regret later on," said Phantom imploringly, and Dash shot the ghost a dirty look as Phantom gazed at his living self with the selfsame loving and devoted look he'd had on earlier. "What would you do? Hurl me into the Ghost Zone? I'd just come back, kill this brat-" Here, he tugged carelessly at the roots of the bully's head, making Dash's eyes water-"And come back for you."

Danny stared at him warily, quipping an eyebrow.

"'Come back for me?' You love me so much, you're going to take me against my will-probably kill me? Gee, you're such a saint, dude. Thanks for looking out for me."

Now the ghost just looked worried.

"Of course not, darling-I would never hurt you. But I DO want you to acknowledge that there's no one whom could love you the way that I do-not Sam, not Valerie, not even this little prick," he said, with no small disgust as he tugged at Dash again, like one would do a disobedient dog.

Danny's face paled as he looked at Dash, now just looking sick. "You're insane."

"For you, my darling."

Dash tried to snort from his position, but the movement only made him hitch his breath sharply as his chest tripled its painful throbbing. He grit his teeth, feeling something warm dripping from behind them. Phantina's grip on his scalp tightened slightly, and Dash bit the inside of his mouth to stop himself from making a sound.

In the distance, he heard Danny's soft voice again, tinged with urgency:

"Phantom. Just….just let him go, okay? He needs medical attention."

Vision still foggy, Dash could not make out Phantom's smirk, though he knew it was there. His sore hands slowly curled into trembling fists, hot liquid pouring from the side of his face and from his mouth onto them. He heard himself groan softly, even as rage bristled inside of him.

"What do you care?" Phantom asked sardonically, giving the bully's head a little shake, ignoring Dash's quiet grunt of pain. "Admit it, love-this is slightly appealing for you. This wretched little Nazi-boy has been tormenting you for years now. You want him to hurt. And I'll hurt him for you."

With that, the ghost cruelly sent Dash tumbling to the ground with a well-aimed kick to the ribs. Dash heard someone let out a piercing roar, wildly recognized that he was the one screaming, and collapsed onto the ground, writhing as more of the hot liquid trickling from his forehead poured into his eyes, making him see red. Never, in all the football injuries he had ever sustained, had he been in such excruciating pain. If he could think coherently, he would have realized that all of his injuries combined could not amount to this terrible agony. It was a miracle he stayed conscious.

He keeled over from where he lay on the ground like a helpless maggot, longing to scream, but completely paralyzed, unable to make a sound. Above the explosive sound of blood pounding in his ears, he could still make out the faint sound of Fentina's beautiful voice.

He'd heard a vehement exclamation, and faintly listened to the grass rustle as someone rushed towards the two of them. But then, he felt the light pressure of a boot upon his neck, and the rustling sounds died quite abruptly.

Okay, forget strangulation; seemed Phantom preferred classic execution style.

Near whimpering, and longing to be asleep when it happened, Dash wearily and happily surrendered the battle to keep his eyes open, and tumbled headfirst into darkness.

(~*0*~)

Phantom's sadistic smile faded somewhat when Danny's angry sobs again broke out in the clearing.

"LEAVE HIM ALONE! God, Phantom, if you don't-if any part of you is still-I'll go with you," Danny begged, his voice breaking twice. "Please. Just leave him alone. I'm _begging _you, here!"

The beautiful ghost considered the boy he loved unconditionally, a sad look in his green eyes.

"I wonder if you would plead the same for my sake. Danny, I've been inside your soul for years. You can't possibly have changed your mind about this brat in the weeks I've been gone."

Hysterical, the teen drove his pale hands through his midnight black hair, and clutched at the strands.

"Uh, _duh no_, Phantom! Of **course** Dash is a jerk! He's one of the biggest jerks I know, and that's saying a lot, considering that we've tangled with ghosts like Spectra and Walker on a daily basis! But that doesn't give you the right to step on human life and treat it like scum on your shoes! Let him go. He's hurt. Please."

The wind rustled through the clearing, rustling the motionless jock's straw gold hair from where he lay bleeding on the ground. Danny's face was buried in his hands. His ghost self never took his eyes off of him.

The former suspicion and unmistakable hatred in his eyes had faded. Again, there was gentleness. He took a tentative step forward, still leaving one foot cautiously on the back of Dash's skull.

"….I see. I forget what it's like, having a human heart covered in chains. I _try_ to forget. At least," Phantom added, his silky voice lilting slightly, becoming dark and seductive, "I try to forget the boring parts, and focus on what I miss the most. Your warm body, for example…your warm, soft little hands that kept pawing at my shoulders…."

Danny would not look at him, though he shivered. Staring at him hungrily, Phantom went on:

"My hands in comparison must have been _freezing_, however. But they warmed up quite nicely that beautiful night I finally got to hold you in my arms and hear you moan for me. Your face was _so_ red, Danny-I thought you were going to overheat. But you kept up rather nicely, rocking against me as I thrust into your warm, supple body-"

Danny took a hasty step backwards, face flaming.

"That's enough. Knock it off, you **sick**-"

"It was nice seeing you so helpless and vulnerable for a change. _Exotic,_ even. I don't remember you ever shaking that much during one of our battles, even when the two of us went head to head with Pariah Dark. You completely forgot Vlad was there, or maybe just didn't care, judging from the way you screamed when you buried your face into my sweaty shoulder when I started suckling on your-"

"S-Stop!"

For a moment, a smirking Phantom held his gaze, and then, promptly disappeared into thin air. Shocked, Danny stumbled back another step, eyes whirling wildly around the thicket. Every hair on the back of his neck was standing up, and his forehead glistened with sweat in the cool air. He instinctually waited for his ghost sense to appear, for the prickling sense of the ghost's presence to pick up on his weird, internal radar.

But nothing. He inwardly cursed as he immediately remembered, sick with dread. He swallowed heavily, and then, after a moment's tense hesitation, took a step forward towards the still-motionless Dash. Stricken, he waited, breathing heavily.

Silence. A bird chirped absentmindedly from above him in the treetops. Bewildered, Danny took another step forward, and then another. He was now close enough to see strips of Dash's hair made ruby with blood, plastered to the bully's face.

After a few seconds, Danny's frantic heart rate began to drop, though not out of lack of concern for his old-time rival. Phantom had disappeared, and while this retreat wasn't remotely like the ghost in any shape or form, he did not seem to be coming back. Exhaling heavily, Danny shot across the clearing towards Dash's side, wincing at the vast amount of blo-

Suddenly, the wind was knocked out of his lungs, and his mind was wiped blank as an icy terror immediately blew into it; the boy was sent flying backwards, slammed back into an old oak tree. He tasted rust; his wrists were throbbing with excruciating pain.

As he was dazed, it took him a second to realize that a pair of silver-gloved hands was practically squeezing the life out of them, pinning them above his head. And that he no longer felt the cold metal of the Fenton thermos in his failing hands.

He immediately noticed a sparkle on the edge of his vision, and he immediately glanced down to see that the Fenton thermos was lying on the ground a few feet away. But his attention was soon captured by someone else.

Grinning widely, bright green eyes inflamed by the heat of insanity, Danny Phantom smiled down at his terrified, struggling counterpart, not seeming to notice Danny's frantic kicks to his waist, or the teen's screams for help. Dash remained motionless on the ground behind Phantom, and the ghost only kept calmly staring at his prey, hands twitching with greed. After a moment of enduring Danny's cries, the ghost leaned his forehead against his old counterpart's, and said cheerfully:

"Dear one, I hate to hear you so upset. Please stop fussing, else I'd have to remedy that problem by smashing out that idiot's insides. He is the one who made you upset, right darling? Interrupting us like that…."

Phantom turned back to give Dash a derisive look, and promptly spat in the boy's direction. But his attention had immediately gone back to Danny, who had by now stopped struggling, still wincing in pain, motionless by fright. The ghost didn't seem to notice Danny's discomfort, because his lips trailed to the dark-haired boy's ear, and whispered hotly:

"If it really matters that much to you, I'll let him live. But in either case, you'd do well to consign your heart to mine. Your heart belongs to me, Danny-it _always_ has, as _mine_ has always been _yours_."

Hot tears began flooding down Danny's pale face again, and the ghost thumbed them away, his expression becoming deathly serious.

"Either way, as I said, that bully's fate changes nothing of your own design. You will go to New Zealand, only **I** will accompany you, to the university and observatory and _anywhere else you go_. You'll know no other companionship but mine, because no one could come close to the love I have for you."

"You're insane! **_You're insane, you're insane, you're insane_**! LET ME GO!"

"No," said Phantom, in another purr. "I won't. Ever. And if you think you can love or want anyone else, whether it be your ridiculous family, that ridiculous boy-" He gestured impatiently in Dash's direction-"Your annoying friends, or that **disgusting, disgusting girl** you KNOW I loathe and yet you write to so very **often**….!"

At the mention of the last name, Phantom's face became almost feral with rage. He took a deep breath before he continued, because Danny looked near hysterics:

"Then I'll snap off one of their limbs for every time you communicate to them without my consent. What will it be, Danny? A finger joint ripped off for a secret phone call you forgot to tell me about? Or maybe an ankle sliced off when you tried to write your so-called sweetheart a letter?"

Danny had never once been so overcome by fear that he'd been ready to faint, but it took every effort the trembling boy could muster to avoid toppling into darkness. Phantom sadistically continued:

"I could never, would never hurt you, my love," he said, not noticing how the boy's wrists shook with agony, "But someone will have to suffer very deeply for taking my time away from you. So, in every fitting and poetic sense of justice, I suppose I'll simply have to cut parts of them away. And they will be things they will miss….like their necks."

Voice long-gone, Danny wept, struggling anew, eyes imploring and despairing. Phantom sighed, and tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind Danny's ear.

"But you know, I'm really not so bad, darling one. I might be lenient now and again because you're such a treasure, but you must know I want your love. Now. Your word to me. Now. And I want your body. NOW."

Phantom released Danny, arms gently wrapping around him in an embrace. Danny just stood there, still paralyzed. The silver-haired boy brought his lips to Danny's forehead, letting out a soft moan of pleasure as he did so. Danny shook with horror and disgust as the ghost boy swept him close, and the teen _felt _him…

Phantom dropped to one knee, cradling Danny's hand against his face. Danny knew it would be useless to run. The ghost boy looked up at him with a soft look, looking every bit like a cherubim instead of a horrible monster.

"Danny, I will give you everything you want, everything you deserve. I will take you around the world, around the Ghost World-anywhere you could ever want to go. You don't have to work hard for the exams to get you into the space program; you know more than 80% of the applicants, anyway. I'll bring you the answers, and then we can be together amongst the stars.

You will never want for nothing, and every night and every day, I'll be your adoring servant, and cut down anyone who's foolish or suicidal enough to get in the way of your career. I'll protect you. I'll keep you warm. You never need fear loneliness, and I'll never grow weary in your society. You will never get even a remote idea of how much I adore you, but that's fine."

Phantom stood, and looked at him. Danny stared back at him with red eyes.

In the silence, he noticed that Phantom's eye kept darting back to Dash in his monologue. The fanatical bloodlust in his eyes had not faded, and Danny knew that if he did not answer in the affirmative soon, it would mean Dash's swift and terrible demise.

Though he continued weeping silently, he nonetheless slowly wrapped his arms around the beaming ghost's shoulders, and drew him into a fervent kiss, just as Dash Baxter began to stir.

~(*0*)~

Every muscle of him throbbed with pain, and he dimly wondered whether or not he had a concussion. His dreams had been dark and disturbing, and full of screams….

Dash dazedly stared at the scene before him for a moment or so, unable to process what was happening. The sweet smell of grass was still making his mind swim….

And then, a surge electrocuted his mind, and he immediately sat up, too shocked to notice the staggering amount of pain that raced through his torso. His mouth dropped, and blood trickled from it, but he couldn't make a sound.

Fentina and Phantina were locked in a passionate embrace, although Fentina seemed to relish it as much as if he'd been kissing some sick toad. His face was drained completely of color and there were two waterfalls pouring out from his pained, frightened eyes. Phantina noticed none of this however, phasing Danny's shirt free so that he could ravenously attack the pale skin he found there. He saw Danny flinch, but did not make a sound, even as Phantina was covering the kid in bite marks.

Dash and Danny's eyes met. Danny's cerulean eyes widened, and he screwed them shut as Phantina moved back up to the boy's neck. He whispered something inaudible, and yet even Dash could lip-read what the boy was saying:

"_Please_..."

Quickly drawing a smug Phantom into another kiss to distract him, Danny reached out as far as he could and kicked the thermos away, towards Dash. The thing silently rolled to the bully, who numbly took it, staring dumbfounded at the weird little device as Phantom and Fentina kept going at it. Phantina's hands were at the boy's pant button, ignoring Danny's frantic attempts to paw him away.

Dash's face went scarlet with fury.

With the biggest effort he had ever made in his life, he slowly stood up. Phantom took no notice of him, too busy delighting himself with the crying Danny Fenton. Imagining that he was clutching a football, Dash's bleeding fingers immediately went to the cylinder, knowing instinctively that this was the way to work this thing. He'd seen Phantom-Fenton do it plenty of times.

He had one chance. If he missed, he was dead, and Danny's fate was set. He took a deep breath, ignoring the sharp little pangs he felt around his aching and bruised body as he imagined hurling an endgame touchdown.

He aimed the device at an unsuspecting Phantom's back, his eyes glittering with hatred for his former hero.

And the boy swiftly fired.


End file.
